Red Revolver
by Word-Stranger
Summary: With nothing left to do after TDWT, Tyler has been in a boring rut lately.Watch as a mistake leads him to the top of the Boxing World...rated T for language,violence,and some inappropriate themes.Enjoy! Currently on Hiatus.
1. The Boxing Revolution

**Just a fic idea that's been popping in my head. Tyler's slowly becoming one of my favorite TD characters.**

* * *

H-how it happened...I just don't know. A dead body layed at my feet. I looked at my hands, the tools for murder. Lindsay was shouting something at me, but most of the world was gone. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears,and the sound of that final blow.

To truly understand this, I'll have to take you back nearly a whole year...

* * *

_1 Year Earlier_

I sat in my Geometry class, the teacher up front talking on about squares and triangles and how they relate to the world...blah, blah, blah. Ever since I was eliminated from Total Drama World Tour, life's been pretty boring. Sure, I'm dating Lindsay and we see each other regularly, but outside of that I have nothing to do. I've already been on every sports team this high school offered, and none of them were as challenging or fun as Total Drama. I have to admit,even though Chris tortured us, if you look back, some of the challenges were pretty interesting. The bell for dismissal rang. I sighed as I grabbed my backpack and trudged to my next class.

That afternoon, I was trudging home. I didn't even know what a person looked like when they trudged, but I guess I was doing it. My house wasn't that far away, only about a 20 minute walk. As I 'trudged' down the same sidewalk I've walked down since a small kid, I noticed something different.

A gym. I stopped and looked up, the sign of the gym lit up in bright neon letters."Doc Clay's Boxing Gym..."I read out loud. It was an old apartment complex. It should have always been here, since the bricks that made up the building were very worn. The sign must've just been turned on. I don't know why, but I found myself walking up the steps to the third floor of the apartment. With each step...tension began to build in my body. What was I expecting? If I made it to the top,I wouldn't be surprised if I had an ulcer.

Luckily, ulcers never came as I reached the top. A rotting wooden door greeted me. I reached out and knocked three times. Then another three times. And another.

Just before turning around to leave, I heard noise inside. Seconds later clicks of locks unlocking, and the door opened. An old man who barely came up to my torso appeared in the doorway. He had dark-tanned skin which contrasted his silver combover hair and mustache. He was gruff in appearance and speech. "What do you want, punk?" He rumbled out in a voice too deep for his stature.

I really didn't know what to say. Something forced me up here, and that force had left me at the doostep of this strange old man. "I uh...saw the sign out front. I was curious..."I came up for an answer.

The man looked out the door to his left, seeing the neon light."Goddang. Must've turned in on by accident. Well kid if your here to learn, your 20 years too late."He said, rubbing his mustache. "Wha...what do you mean?"I asked, not eally sure where this would lead me. Hopefully not with a shotgun barrel pointed at my face. That man's right hand was twitching towards something I couldn't see beyond the doorframe.

"The boxing gym closed down 20 years ago, idiot."He replied."I haven't trained a kid like you in years. So just go home and leave an old man to his brandy." He waved me off, turning around.

The words 'boxing' and 'train' perked my attention. The school didn't have a boxing...team, let alone any other fighting sport. Wrestling had been banned on account of how last year a guy had nearly cracked my spine in half in the first match of the year.

"Wait!"I found myself shouting for no reason. The old man turned back around to face me."You don't have to scream. I don't have a hearing aid, punk."He crossed his arms."Could I...see your boxing gym? Like I said, I'm curious." I was nervous. The tension was building back up again.

The Old man sighed, and waved. "Come in."

I stepped inside and followed him. The apartment was huge. The entire third floor must be used for this room. The room had a boxing ring right in the center of the room, benches lined up along a wall, mats and punching bags were shoved into a corner. The place smelled of sweat and alchohol. "Go ahead, look around, I don't care." The Old Man sat down on a bench, a bottle of brandy in one hand. He gave a large chug of the fiery stuff.

Walking over to the punching bags, I rubbed my hand along one bag. It was covered in dust, but the feeling of worn leather was still there. Not really thinking, I pulled back my left fist and punched the bag. It seemed much louder to me, but a _SMACK _rebounded around the room. My fist had left a deep imprint into the bag. Turning around, I saw the Old Man just staring at me. Awkward...

"Kid...I haven't seen somebody hit that hard in years." He jumped off the bench, waddling over to me. He picked up my hand and examined it. I hadn't even noticed, the skin around my knuckles had been torn from the punch. "Do you know what this means?"The man shoved my hand closer to my face."That I'll need some band-aids?"I replied,raising one eyebrow.

"No! It means your a hard-hitter! Only strong punches could tear skin like that!"He was ecstatic.

"Listen kid, I'm pretty buzzed right now, but I know this isn't the alchohol talking. You could be a Boxer...a great one..."He drawled off.

"What's your schedule?"He suddenly snapped."Uh...I come by here every day on the way back home from school..."

"Come in here every afternoon." He let go of my hand, and began pacing.

"Yes...yes...I can have the gym set up and everything...some new equipment...repairs..."He mumbled to himself. He stopped to look and me, and smiled. He had pretty good teeth for an old guy."I'm Doc Clay. And You?"

"I'm Tyler..."I introduced myself.

"Well Tyler, your going to be a Boxer soon."


	2. Makings of a Champion

I actually had something to do now. At first, I thought this boxing thing would just hold me over until I found something else to do, the school always had some openings on the sports teams. But I was wrong. Oh, so wrong.

The next day at school, I watched the clock more than I usually did, willing it to tick and tock faster. I was practically on the edge of my seat, my eyes bulging out. I just blockd out the rest of what the teacher was saying in every class period, just focusing on the clock. When the final bell rang for dismissal, I rushed out the room, faster than the kids who sat right by the door. Just before reaching the exit, a voice I loved to hear called out my name. It sounded ditzy, but that's what made her adorable.

Turning around, Lindsay greeted me. I smiled at her, looking at her from head to toe. Her flowing blonde hair, complimented by her blue eyes. Those cowgirl boots she always wore,and that brown/red top. I blushed slightly at he well-endowed chest. It was a nice feature, but I didn't love her for her body. Me and Lindsay just clicked together...like a jigsaw puzzle. I've heard Heather say that we were the two weird-looking pieces that don't fit in with the rest of the puzzle.

"Hey Lindsay!"I smiled, we gave each other a peck on the lips. "So, where are you going?"She asked, rocking back and forth on her heels. I puffed out my chest. "To a boxing gym! It's something I've taken up."I said proudly. "Ooh, well have fun with that! I'll meet you later at my house tonight, 'kay?" She blew me a kiss goodbye, and turned around to leave. I pretended t catch the kiss, turning around to to, but smacked into the door instead. I didn't figure out till later that Lindsay thought I was working with actual cardboard boxes, like packing stuff into them.

Entering the gym, Doc Clay was sitting on a bench, rummaging around in a box. "Come. Sit."He commanded me in that gruff voice of his. I shook off my backpack at the entrance and sat down beside him.

In the box were various objects that appeared to be just junk to me. Doc pulled out a black and white picture of a tall, handsome-looking mexican man. He was poised in a boxing stance, a smug grin on beneath his handlebar mustache. Doc quickly stashed the picture back into the box before I could ask any questions. He pulled out some hand wraps and a pair of boxing gloves that matched my track suit. "Suit up, you start training now." He glared at me.

* * *

I was dragging myself to Lindsay's house that night. Doc didn't believe in that 'start out slow and build up' training. He was all about 'either you work at a pace that nearly kills you, or you don't train at all' sort of thing. First it was simple, stretches to get start. And as many know, I'm extremely flexible, so little stretching was required. Then the punishment started. Five sets with 100 reps of everything. Sit ups, he whackedmy stomach with a walking cane everytime I 'didn't do it in the right form'. Push-ups I had to do with him sitting on top of me. Then 30 around the apartment complex...

Finally we started boxing. I laced on the gloves and he was actually lenient on this part. He asked if I was right handed. I was an orthodox boxer. He had me hold up my fists with my right hand tucked under my chin, and my left more out. He said to say on my toes at all times to allow myself to move freely in any direction. He brought me to a punching bag, and told me to just jab. Punch outward, turning your fist, and pivoting at the waist.

This is where I messed up. I'm not the most...coordinated athlete, and I ended up just swinging my fists around, my right hand coming in contact with my crotch. Thus I let out the manliest noise ever: A high-pitched squeal. I crumpled to the ground, holding said area of pain. Doc just shook his head. "Stand up. I've seen men take baseball bats to the cajones, and all they did was let their legs quiver a bit."

* * *

I sat in Lindsay's living room, trying not to fall asleep from exhaustion on her couch. She was happily explaining to me all the things important to a girl. How the cheerleading tryouts went and how she's still captain, how she and Beth passed notes in class, and commented on how cute other couples were.

* * *

The next afternoon I made very little progress. I was still so tired...

Doc just shook his head, rubbed his temples, and sighed. "Kid...just give up. Y'know what? It was the booze talking a few nights ago. I've seen toddlers with better reflexes."

My shoulders sagged. Every other sport I've taken on...I knew this...but the other coaches just allowed it to slip by. They were...giving everyone equal chances.

He walked over to me and unlaced the gloves in seconds, slipping them off my hands. "Go home, find something else, I don't care." He threw the gloves into the corner of abandoned gear. "Leave an old man to his brandy." He entered another room, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Later that night, very late, Doc Clay awoke to the sound of grunts, heavy breathing, and fist hitting leather. Opening his bedroom door, half-clad in a white t-shirt and boxers, he saw me hitting a punching bag in the corner, the discarded gloves from earlier on. After a few minutes of watching me, he spoke. "Tyler...have you even left?"

I turned around, dazed from exhaustion and sweat pouring into my eyes. "Y-yeah...Doc...I've been here since you locked yourself in your room earlier. I've been...training..."

Doc walked over and unlaced my gloves. He gently placed them on the floor. " Kid, go home."

I stumbled over to the exit, grabbing my backpack. Looking outside, I was washed over with relief from the cool of the night. "And...don't forget to come back tomorrow afternoon." Doc added. We both smiled.

* * *

The first week was excruciating. I went to bed sore, and I woke up sore.

The second week was getting easier...I was learning the basics of boxing...the pain started to subside.

By the third week, Doc was congratulating me on my progress.

In the fourth week, I was ready for my first fight.

I sat in a locker room, nervousness eating away at my insides. I was shirtless with my red boxing gloves on, matching red shorts and tennis shoes on. Covering my forehead was my favorite headband.

"Calm down...Calm down..."I kept repeating to myself. Why was I so nervous?'

Doc Clay entered, and motioned with his head."C'mon, it's fight night for you."


	3. The Red Revolver

Down the walkway, I gulped. Ahead, already standing in the ring was my opponent. He was a freaking mountain. This is what I got for being 175 lbs., considered a 'Lightweight' in the heavyweight division. Tattoo's and muscles bristled along his body. He smirked at me as I tried to climb into the ring, getting tangled up in the ropes. Doc helped me out and lead me to my corner. "Come on, ref. Why don't you disqualify him out of pity?" My opponent mocked, pounding his fists together.

We both walked up to center ring when we were called by the referee. He explained the rules to us, and made us touch fists out of respect. What was I thinking? Beads of sweat were already dripping off my face as I stared down. What would happen? I imagined his fist crashing into my face, making my entire head explode from the sheer power. Or worse...my entire body exploding. I could imagine all of my loved ones at my funeral, only a few gushy bits remaining of my body in the casket.

The bell rang for our fight to begin, and I jumped back out of fear. It was then my fear dissipated. I took my boxing stance, a grin on my face.

My opponent had a flawed boxing stance. I could see multiple spots that would allow me to pound right through. He probably didn't even have a trainer, maybe self-taught. This overconfidence of his made my first match my easiest. It's a shame I can't say the same for the rest...

I rushed him. Caught off guard, he stood his ground unevenly.. Fortunately, making even more openings for me. A clean left uppercut to the chin, three right jabs followed, then another uppercut to the same spot on his chin.

He stumbled back a few steps. I kept up the pressure, more and more jabs to his face. He was on the ropes now, my punches pushing him into them. I was...excited. I was actually doing a sport right. I was doing something that barely happened in my life...winning. I wanted to win. I came into this fight first thinking I would barely get by...a tie would've been nice. But now, I had actual chances of winning.

He wasn't even trying anymore. My jabs kept coming. Left, _POW. _Right, _POW. POW. POW!_

And then he fell.

The ref was immediatly beside him, counting. 10 seconds later, he was official considered knocked out. The ref walked over to me, holding up my left arm in the air. "Winner by KO, 1 minute and 28 seconds into the first round, Tyler the 'REEEED REVOOOOLVER!" The Ref shouted, even though only a few people were in the stands, clapping politely at my victory. It was one of the greatest moments of my life. I had won. That final blow seemed to last forever...It was in slow motion to me, replaying over and over again in my head.

Doc walked over to me. But instead of praise, he smacked me over the head with his walking cane. "You didn't even try to land a single blow on the body."

I looked at him sadl,feeling dissapointed."But..."He continued on."Great first match. See? You took down a man twice your weight with your bare jabs alone. That's pure punching power." He grinned with those perfect teeth of his."Now, let's go celebrate."

"One question...who's the Red Revolver?"I asked. Another crack over the head with his cane. Doc could be really moody at times."It's you,idiot! I gave it as your nickname."He replied."Your fast and powerful like a revolver. I just added the red part because of your wardrobe choices..." He raised one eyebrow and began walking towards the exit. I stood there blankly for a moment.

"What's wrong with my all red track suit?"I asked. He didn't reply, just kept walking.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY TRACK SUIT?"I shouted, running after him.

* * *

That night I went over to Lindsay's house, telling her about my first match. She still thought boxing was about cardboard boxes.

"That's so great, Taylor!"She squealed, hugging me. The makeout session afterward totally made me forget about her mistaking my name.

* * *

Training afterwards was steadily becoming easier. My muscles were toning, my punches getting faster, and my feet carrying me farther when running. It was later that I learned my first match was simply a rookie match. If I wanted the real money and bigger crowd, Doc informed, I would have to apply for my boxing license. It's weird. You need a license to fight?

Another strange thing was thatI didn't want to fight for the money or fame. That feeling of...the pure sport of it. I loved the feeling of the fight. If I win or lose, the feeling of the fight. This idea was slowly forming in my head.

* * *

**Sorry for such a short chapter.**


	4. License to Punch

**Sorry for sort of a...filler chapter.****

* * *

**

Three days after my first match, Doc had me apply for my license. It was a test made up of three simple parts: First, a written questionare.. At first I couldn't believe writing could be involved with sports at all, but it was just checking if you knew the simple rules of the ring. The second part...a tad more challenging.

It was a physical challenge. You would have to compete against another test-taker in the ring. Since this was a regulated event, safety headgear and extra-cushioned gloves would have to be worn. The single round is based on a judge-point system. The boxer with the most points would advance on into the third part. The third part, a simple picture taken for your license. So, the physical challenge would either make or break you. I seriously hope it doesn't break me like Total Drama did. I still have some fading scars and bruises.

I sat down at a desk, a pencil and answer sheet already laid out. I sighed. It was late in the afternoon, out of one school and into the other. I just had to blow through this...

* * *

"GAH!"

I rubbed my forehead with my palm, trying to ease the pressure that had built up in my brain. Who knew boxing had so many rules?

After resting for a bit, my name was called up for th physical challenge. A stand-in trainer helped put my headgear and gloves on. It felt so weird with all of this bulky equipment on...how was anybody supposed to fight? I looked across the ring at my opponent, not much made him stand out. He seemed to have a build similiar to mine, but I couldn't make out his face clearly. We were called to the center, the basics of beginning the match happened. We touched gloves, and the bell rang.

He was the first one to attack, already charging me. I blocked his first few punches easy, but then he slipped in a uppercut/jab combo, stunning my face. It didn't hurt, but I remembered, it was a point-match. If he kept is up, he'll easily surpass me in points. I raised my fists, and began jabbing. Doc's training was really working. My jabs blew right past his guard, giving me a chance to go at his head. But...I remembered what Doc had said earlier. Go for the body.

Switching my and positions, my uppercut then landed in his stomach rather than his chin, followed by quick, snappy little-jabs. I didn't know how strong I had become. Even through the headgear, I could see his eyes bulge a little and hear him sputter. Another uppercut to the body and he was on his knee's. The ref pushed me aside and began counting. You could get a knockout in a point match? Maybe I should've listened to Doc more closely...

And the guy was out. He removed his headgear, coughing up spittle. "Uh...sorry..."I tried to convince him that I didn't want his guts puked up. He looked at me, a little wary."Just...don't go getting into a fight outside the ring...your fists are like shotguns."He stood up,his knee's shaking. I offered my hand , but he shook his head.

* * *

I walked out of that building grinning. In my hand was my boxing license. Not even my picture stopped my happiness. I had sneezed just a second before the camera clicked...I hope Doc doesn't mind a few green globs in the way of my face.


	5. Great Fang

A month later, another month of training, I had my first 'official' match. I didn't even know who my opponent was. Doc said not to worry about stuff like that, but he filled me in on my opponent on the way to the stadium. He had a headstart over me, already five wins and only two losses. And those two losses were only by a single point's decision.

* * *

I found myself in the same position I was in my rookie match. Sitting in a locker room, letting the nervousness kill me from the inside-out. It was mostly a blur that happened after that, Doc lead me down the pathway, and I was in the ring. This match was totally different from the rookies. The stadium was much larger, filled with a a hundred or so spectators. Doc nudged me in the ribs."Most of this crowd is on your side, I trained these men in earlier years."He grinned. This still didn't calm the tension building up. Across the ring, my opponent stood in the corner. He was just...staring at me. When I met his eyes, no reaction from him. Talk about a poker face.

He had a build slightly bulkier than mine. He had black hair in the shape of military-buzzcuts, and wore blue gloves and trunks, a stark contrast to me. He just kept staring...

We stepped up to the center ring, the referee announcing our names, his was...something Russian that I couldn't quite make out. But his nickname got quite a reaction from his side of the audience, the 'Great Fang'. When the ref announced my nickname, a equal cheer rang up. This lifted my spirits slightly.

Suddenly the bell for round one rang.

Like in my test, my opponent took first strike. I was surprised to find that his body blows actually landed. I let out a little choking sound, only for him to hit me more."Get in your stance!"I heard Doc yell from our corner.

I quick took his advance, now blocking his punches by lowering my guard. Stepping forward, we had a hitting match on our hands. We traded blows with one another. I punched him, then he punched me. This repeated for...the entire round. I awoke from a daze, the bell ringing and I walked over to my corner. Doc had set up a stool for me to sit on."Kid, never start off a match with a trade! You'll regret it later on!"Doc warned, placing a small ice pack on my face. I was surprised to see that I could feel some swelling around my cheeks.

Then Doc pushed me off my stool,and he jumped out off the ring. Round two's bell rang.

I took my stance, moving around my opponent slightly. We circled each other in the ring. God, that stare of his. His eyes were unmoving. I must've flinched,and this is where this match took a turn for the worst.

He inverted his torso vertical, placing his left fist under my chin, then bringing his right fist crashing down on top of my head, crushing my skull between his two fists. He quickly retreated back, still staring. I found myself a tad dizzy...

The crowd was cheering now. I could hear shouts of 'Signature Move!" and "That's why they call him the Great Fang!"

Oh...I got it now. His attack was similiar to an animal's maw crunching together...

While in my thoughts, he performed the move once again. The dizziness had heigthened, making me stumble about. Was that a cracking sound in my head? I could see a double-image of my opponent rushing me again. Three straight jabs to the face knocked me straight onto my butt."Down!"I heard the ref as he began counting.

I stood back up at five, shaking my head to get rid of the spinning world in front of me. Instead of another fight, I was met with the bell that ended the round.

Doc whacked me with his cane."Idiot."Was all he mumbled as he treated my wounds. My face had swollen even more, and my nose trickled a little blood.

"Fight back."He whispered into my ear as the third round started.

I rushed forward this time. I swung a right hook, he ducked and gave me a few light jabs. I brought my fist into a right uppercut, this time it nicked his chin. His eyes closed for a second, giving me a chance. Jabs, my specialty. _Jab. Jab. JAB. JAB. JAB. JAB!_

I switched between jabs to the body then jabs to his face. This got a positive reaction from the crowd. He skipped back, blocking my jabs with his head fully covered by his arms. He seemed nervous. Good, I had an advantage now! Unfortunately, I got a little too confident...

I moved forward, but tripped over my own feet. Caught off balance, the Great Fang saw another chance to punish me. His signature attack was performed, and this one had some power behind it this time. My vision seemed to vibrate and shake as he actually showed some emotion. He smiled a I fell to the ground again. I laid on my back, looking up at the spotlights that hanged from the ceiling. My vision was still shaky though, so I could only see blurs.

What was I thinking? I could never be a Boxer. Doc's training didn't help at all...I'm still a klutz. Even though I try, I still end up being the most unathlethic person...EVER. I heard the shouts of "SIX!" from the referee as he counted up. Hurry up and get to ten already, I thought.

I looked to my side and saw Doc staring at me desperately. Beyond him was the crowd of supporters he had gathered, all looking as desperate as him. Like my defeat would hurt them...

Then I remembered how it felt to box earlier...

maybe...I could stand up just one more time.

I hopped up to my feet at the count of eight. My opponent looked at me strangely, as if he was surprised that I would stand up again. He quickly reverted back to his blank eyes though. The ref moved out of the way, and our fight continued.

After a few seconds of staring each other down, his signature attack came up once more.I was ready.

I slid to the side, his gripping fists slipping through thin air. He was caught off balance this time, and he looked at me, his eyes wide.

I made them shut tight with a powerful uppercut that smashed right into his face. His body lifted up into the air for a split second, only to be sprawled out on the mat another second later. The referee immediately began counting, and in ten seconds, I had won.

A mighty cheer rose from the crowd that supported me. Doc hopped into the ring, grinning."So, how does it feel Tyler?"He asked.

"How does what feel?"I asked."My face? It's pretty sore."

He whacked me with that cane again."No,not your face. Knowing that you didn't give up...you didn't let your fans down."He pointed at the crowd behind him, all still raising kane about my victory.

"Pretty good..."I replied, grinning."But my face still hurts."

* * *

That night I went over to Lindsay's for a well-deserved celebration. When she opened the door, she was shocked to see my face."Oh Taylor, poor baby! What happened?"She lead me inside and we both sat down on the couch in her living room.

"I just won another boxing match..."I grinned victoriously.

"Who knew cardboard could be so rough?"She said.


	6. Glory Road?

****

Been a while. I'll try to make updates as soon as I can.

* * *

After that first real fight,it all seemed to go right for me...for a while, at least. Who needed Total Drama and it's million dollars? I had my girl Lindsay, and my sport, Boxing.

Even school was pretty good. I was passing every class with a C+ average, so I was set. But all good things have to come to an end...right?

I spent the next few months doing only three things, training, fighting, and making out with Lindsay. My fight after the Russian guy seemed to be just as hard, but the victory was so worth it.

It was a large, dark man, reminding me of Chef. Maybe a relative? As we tapped gloves out of respect, he gave me a gentle smile, a gesture I wasn't used to in the ring. After that though, he was nothing but pain and wrath. The fight went into five rounds before I had ended it. He had downed me twice in the fifth round, one more time and it would be a technical knockout. He had me in a corner, his massive frame blocking any escape path I could plan out. All I could do was hold up my arms to block my face and hope he doesn't power through and shatter any bones.

Nearing the end of the round though, his punches began to slow, and a tiny gap was between each. I took a chance and slammed my entire torso forward, all of the force going through a right jab into his stomach. He let out a gasp of breath, then a gasp of pain after my left jab clocked him in the face several times.

A few more punches later, and the human skyscraper fell with heavy thud.

He struggled to stand up, but just as he raised himself to one knee, the referee had reached the count of ten.

Among the cheers, the man walked over to me, the same grin from the beginning of the match on his tired face."Thanks."He said, holding out a hand to shake. I took it.

"For what?"I asked after our shake was done.

"That was my last match...I'm retiring this month."He let out a sigh of relief."And for this last match...you gave me a good fight."

As he walked out of the ring, he placed a hand on Doc's shoulder."You were right, he was a good opponent. Take the kid far, Doc."

And the fight after that, just as good. I took down an even bigger man...but not muscle wise, all flab. He thought his fat would protect the weak body beneath by deflecting any blow. He was right for the most part, but a single good punch from me right into his belly made him topple.

After that, Doc intensified my training. It was for the better, after looking back on it. More routines of hitting the heavy bag, and he made me jog once in the morning and once at night for at least an hour's time.

The fight after that, another victory. It was pretty easy this time, a scrawny guy a few pounds less than me was downed in the second round by an uppercut. I tried to tell him he was fast to cheer him up, but both fingers were raised at me.

Pretty soon, my reputation as a undefeated six win Boxer reached the ears of my classmates. It was a mixed reaction from them all. Girls swooned over me...or was that just my imagination thinking that up? Guys either wanted to become my pal so that I could protect them or fight me to prove that they're tougher than the clumsy athlete turned Boxer. I just ignored them...I had Lindsay, and a few friends from Total Drama to back me up.

* * *

_1 month ago_

I was at Lindsay's house, and I had decided it was time for her to see me in action. I could perfectly imagine it. My opponent sent flying across the ring by a single punch, the wild jeers and shouts of the crowd, Lindsay in my arms gazing at me adoringly."Tyler, you're so strong!"She would say, then would proceed to kiss me passionately.

My daydream was broken by her real voice beside me."Taylor...Taylor? Are you okay?"She asked, putting her hand on my shoulder.

Shaking myself awake to reality, I grinned back, despite her getting my name wrong once again."Y-yeah, I'm fine! And I was wondering..."I proceeded."Would you like to come to my next boxing match? Look, I've already paid for your ticket!"I produce said ticket from a red pocket.

"Sure, I'd love to go."She takes the ticket enthusiastically. My daydream was coming true!

* * *

_Three weeks ago_

The night of my seventh fight in my career. Doc informed me that if I won this, I qualified for fighting the heavyweight champion of the whole country! Imagine me, a trophy in hand and a golden belt around my waist. The daydream was getting better and better.

I stood in my corner of the ring, Doc giving me last minute advice. All I could really focus on were the glaring lights overhead. Did they have to be so bright?

The announcers voice came over the whole room, making the crowd cheer. Looking out, I only saw unknown faces on my side of the ring. Where was Lindsay?

"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to the main event of the evening! In this corner, weighing in at 175 pounds and standing five foot eleven inches tall, Tyler the RED REVOOOOOLVEEEEEER!"The announcer made everyone on my side scream, my opponent's side either boo or mildly clap."And in this corner,"He pointed at my opponent, my first good look at him. A build very similiar to mine, dark skin, long dreadlocks hanging past his neck, and a smug expression on his face."weighing in at 180 pounds, standing six feet tall, Tyrone the MASHER MATTHEEEEWS!"

We stood up, approached the middle of the ring, the ref gave us the rules, and we touched gloves. The bell rang, and my fight to impress Lindsay, if she was even here, began.

Tyrone was slightly better than me in almost every factor of this match. Five pounds more muscle, an inch of reach on me, and tons more confidence. I tried to land in a few jabs first, but he blocked them easily and countered with two right hooks in a row. Dazed, I stumbled back a bit, only for him jab continuously at my face. I swung wildly out, reverting back to my ameteur self. He dodged those as well, ending the first round with a cut on my cheek.

Doc placed some salve on the cut and squirted water into my mouth. No advice, but he pushed me into the ring when the bell rang with vigor.

My opponent went on the entire second round aiming solely at my cheek, the cut becoming bigger and the flesh around it swelling. I managed to land an uppercut on him, but the bell to end the round came too quickly. My cheek was stinging, a constant pain piercing through my face. Some more healing salve was placed on it, but it didn't help."Guard yourself! It's basic boxing!"Doc shouted in my ear as the third round began.

This is where most of my life goes down the crapper.

Tyrone was cheating. In the earlier part of the third round, he slid his foot behind my own, making me trip backwards. I fell flat on my back, the ref already at my side and counting. Hopping to my feet at the early count of three, I eyed Tyrone warily. He smirked back, his fists already flying at me. Heeding Doc's advice, I blocked most of them, even returned with a few jabs of my own. He proceeded to cheat again, I was tripped and already considered downed again.

I was getting mad. Hopping back up to my feet for the second time, my wary gaze turned to a glare as I dashed at Tyrone. Not expecting my furiosity, he backed up into the ropes, trapped. My fists smashed into him, and I could see his mouth piece fly out with stringlets of blood and saliva following it. I wasn't done yet.

_BAM!_

A uppercut into his chin, and he was sent hurdling over the ropes and outside of the ring. The ref jumped out to his side, examining his still body. He shook his head."Unconscious."

Announced the winner yet again, I raised my hands in victory. My daydream hadn't gone exactly as planned...

I didn't find Lindsay until I was back in my normal clothes and leaving the parking lot.

She was standing near a light pole, the artificial light illuminating her frame in the night. I waved and approached her, grinning."So, how was it? I was pretty good, right?"I asked, expecting her to fawn and kiss me any second now.

Lindsay shook her head, an upset look on her face."I didn't like it at all."A meteor just crashed down and destroyed my daydream.

"Seeing you like that...I didn't enjoy it."

"But why?"I wanted to shout it, but restrained myself. Lindsay must have a reason."I thought you liked seeing me play sports!"I added my own reason.

"That wasn't a sport...that was..."She paused to search for a word."That was brutal! Yeah, brutal! Taylor, I don't like watching you get beat up, then you coming back with a scary face and beating the other guy up!"

Scary? How was I scary? All I did was partake in my favorite sport...

"Lindsay...I enjoy this!"I tried to make her understand. She shook her head once more.

"If you enjoy this...then maybe we should stop."

"Stop what?"

"Seeing each other...for the moment. Until you quit this boxing thing..."

And then an even bigger metoer came down and crushed my heart.

A breakup? Between me and Linds?

I tried to reason with her, but before I could say a word, she kissed my forehead, and walked away.


End file.
